Instinct
by Son of Caliban
Summary: When Natsuki Bakugou was five, Izuku Midoriya disappeared. Three years later, he's back... but he's not the same. Some would call him a monster. Others a freak. All Natsuki cares about is whether or not he can be a hero. Noumu!Izuku and Fem!Katsuki story.
1. Chapter 1

Instinct

The fact that Izuku Midoriya was in no way unique was, itself, what made him very special. This was a fact that was true from birth, though it only showed itself shortly after the boy's fourth birthday, when science proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that Izuku Midoriya was completely and utterly uninteresting. He did not develop a Quirk, a strange genetic mutation that gave him some bizarre ability. He couldn't run faster than a normal boy, or reach higher, or fly, or project explosions from his hand.

He was totally and utterly normal. And he hated it with a passion. He denied it at first, beside his mother. What a pair they made, a meek young boy smaller than his years and his mother, equally petite, declaring with growing desperation that a doctor who specialized in exactly the sort of thing he was testing for was in fact wrong and Izuku 'did' have a Quirk. The doctor, a tired old fellow well-past his prime, simply shook his head and sighed. He was correct. Izuku Midoriya was one-hundred percent Quirkless.

The boy fell silent, staring at the floor. The doctor knew what was wrong; the Quirkless were looked down upon in modern society. Not outright ostracized, but they had a higher suicide rate than any other demographic by far, and that wasn't some random number. Every year, the number of newborn Quirkless shrank, and the number of older Quirkless who chose to take their own lives rather than live in a world where they were perpetually viewed as lesser, as defective or even as freaks… that number rose. The doctor hoped against hope this boy wouldn't be a part of that rising statistic.

Then the boy looked up, tears brimming in the corners of his verdant green eyes, and asked with a quavering voice if he could still be a hero. The doctor wasn't even sure it was a question directed at him, or just the world in general. The doctor swallowed. His sister had been a hero. A good one at that. But her Quirk, which gave her the ability to sense all motion in a three-hundred-sixty degree radius… that hadn't been enough to keep her alive in the face of the world's more dangerous villains. The funeral had been years ago, but it still hurt to think of her.

A sudden urge overcame the doctor. He hated himself for it, because he was not the sort to go around casually crushing other people's dreams… but he couldn't let this boy kill himself, even by proxy as a hero. Without a Quirk… the doctor swallowed hard.

"You should probably give it up, kid." he said, cursing himself in his head for how dismissive his voice sounded.

The cursing only got louder when the boy, faced with the official medical opinion that heroism was likely impossible, broke down completely and began to cry deeply. His sobs filled the office space and the doctor swallowed even harder, looking away. The boy's mother held him close, crying right along with her son, proclaiming that she was sorry. The doctor recalled that the parents of Quirkless children tended to blame themselves for their children's supposedly 'defective' nature. For a moment he considered reaching out to put a hand on the woman's shoulder… but he pulled away. This was a moment between mother and son. A private moment to grieve what could have been but now would never be.

What could have been…

That night, long after the Midoriya family had left his clinic and right before he closed up for the night, the doctor made a call. It was a shot in the dark, using an old number he hadn't dialed in ages, but he let it ring and ring. After almost half a minute of expectation, somebody picked up.

"This is Doctor Kakure…" he began, taking a long, bracing breath. "I… I've found one."

"Quirkless?" The voice on the other end of the phone was a throaty whisper, a dry and rasping voice, menacing enough to make the doctor's hair stand up on end even over the phone. "You're certain?"

"Y-yes." the doctor replied, nodding. "A boy, age four. Name of Izuku Midoriya. He… he wanted to be a hero."

"Interesting…" the voice said, drawing out the last sound. "You told him otherwise."

The doctor winced despite himself.

"I did." he confirmed.

"Izuku Midoriya…" the voice tested the name. It sounded fundamentally wrong being spoken by that horrifying whisper. "Most interesting… I will inform my Sensei. He will know what to do with that name. Thank you, Doctor. However can we repay you?"

"N-no need." The doctor was no fool; he knew what accepting a reward from these men meant. "C-consider it a free tip. A gift."

"I see…" Once again the voice dragged out the end of a word, before a hoarse chuckle cut its own words off. "Thank you again, Doctor. We will be in touch."

The voice hung up before the doctor could protest. The man let his hand fall from his ear, dropping his phone on the tiled floor. He felt as though he needed a long sleep, in a locked room. His knees shook, despite his subconscious commands for stability. He took a long, gasping breath, and bent down to pick up his phone.

Whether he had just saved Izuku Midoriya or consigned the boy to an early death, he could not say. But… that desperate gasp, that weak little question asked of the wider world… his sister's frowning face flashed in his mind and he put a hand to his forehead. After her Quirk had first developed and she had learned she would be wearing sunglasses for the rest of her life to hide her discoloured eyes that could not see, she had asked him the very same question.

"Can I be a hero?"

The doctor had said yes. His sister had died. In a way, it was his fault. Now...now he may have killed another child, another dreamer with delusions of heroism. The doctor sat heavily in his chair, falling into it, and put his head in his hands. Quirkless suicide rates flashed through his head. The number of pro heroes killed each year. Two very large numbers in context. Damned if he did, damned if he did not.

"You can't be a hero…" he spoke the words aloud, eyes closed. "But... "

The doctor sighed.

"Perhaps HE can make you one."

[X][X][X][X][X]

Natsuki Bakugou's life changed the day her former best friend disappeared from the world.

At first she didn't notice. She didn't even care when she did. So the nerd had gotten sick. So what? She had bigger fish to fry, like teaching all the extras in her new Kindergarten class who was boss. The nerd could up and die for all she cared.

She only realized a week later how very wrong she was. A week later, when she overheard her mother on the phone with Izuku's mother, sounding very distraught indeed. As it turned out, Izuku wasn't home sick. Izuku wasn't home at all. He hadn't been in a week, having disappeared into thin air sometime in the night. Straight from his own bedroom; there when Inko had sent him to bed, gone the next morning. His window had been closed, all his clothes in place, his school backpack still on its hook. Even his shoes were still where she had left them.

The nerd had just vanished. And Natsuki, precocious five year old that she was, decided that she was going to find him and teach him a lesson for scaring her aunty Inko like that. She began immediately, at first coming home late from Kindergarten (which was just down the street from her home, and therefore within walking distance for even a five year old) in the name of searching nearby parks. Soon Natsuki realized that to find the nerd, she would have to look further from home.

One disastrous nine-block trek later, she was perhaps the world's first five year old truant and in very, very deep shit with her mother. Mitsuki Bakugou didn't even ask where her daughter had been, instead sending her to her room before calling her husband home from his search with the family car. The two deliberated on how to punish their errant nomad of a daughter for a good hour, only to open her bedroom door to find that she had climbed out the back window, over the backyard fence, and gone hunting for Izuku again.

That particular search took approximately two hours, before she was found trying to interrogate a very confused shopkeeper about Izuku's location. Mitsuki cried for over an hour, before grounding her daughter for a month. And then, after that particular hammer was dropped, she finally decided to ask her delinquent kindergartener daughter why she had run off twice and what on earth she thought she was doing.

The sullen answer of 'looking for stupid Izuku!' was received with a confused stare that slowly descended into even more tears as Natsuki's husband tried to console her. Natsuki, on the other hand, just wanted to go out and look for Izuku again. It took Mitsuki several minutes to explain that Izuku was being looked for by the police, and that there was nothing Natsuki could do.

Natsuki received news of her own helplessness about as well could be expected and, using her Quirk, Explosion, she nearly destroyed a china set formerly belonging to her own grandmother. Once that little tantrum ended, she began to cry for the first time in her own living memory, unable to accept that 'the nerd' had just vanished like that and that there was nothing she could do about it.

It was only a month after that, when the Izuku Midoriya case had been closed due to a lack of any workable evidence or leads, when Natsuki's life changed again. There was a knocking at the door, and her mother answered only to gasp in surprise. When Natsuki poked a head around the corner in curiosity, she too was surprised to see none other than Inko Midoriya, Izuku's mother, standing in the doorway clutching something in her arms.

"H-hello, Mitsuki…" she said, voice frail, like she could break into tears at any moment. "I-I… I have something f-for Natsuki."

Natsuki rounded the corner, walking up beside her mother with a surprising lack of assuredness to her gait. She didn't know what to do with this or how to approach this situation. This was alien to her. Inko looked at her, and then took the thing in her arms, some sort of… notebook? She took it, and held it out toward Natsuki. Her mouth opened to speak, but all that escaped was a quiet squeak, before she sniffled and started to cry.

As her mother wrapped Inko up in a big hug, Natsuki took the book. It was a simple spiral-bound notebook, the cheap sort you bought at an office supply store for a couple hundred yen. Scrawled on the cover in chicken-scratch kanji were a few simple words, and Natsuki's eyes went wide when she read them.

'_Hero Analysis for the Future'_ the title said, '_By Izuku Midoriya'_.

Natsuki retreated to her room, her mother and Inko both too focused on each other and Natsuki's newly arrived father's efforts to try and get them to sit down (he had become quite adept at dealing with emotional women in the preceding month) to notice her disappearance. She slammed the door, before throwing herself on her bed and opening the notebook. It was mostly empty when she flipped through it, but the first few pages were chock-full of content… and all of it revolved around her.

'_Natsuki Bakugou'_ read the same sketchy kanji as the front cover '_(Naachan).'_

Natsuki swallowed and kept reading.

'_Quirk Name: Explosion. Naachan's Quirk is super cool! It lets her make explosions with her hand, and she can use them to do all sorts of stuff. She can make little poppy ones like firecrackers, or big explosions, or make an explosion when she punches to make it hit harder! Maybe one day she'll be able to fly with explosions! That would be super cool!'_

Natsuki filed that tidbit away for later. The rest of the entry read much the same, with glowing praises of herself, her Quirk and her potential mixed in with fairly impartial observations and ideas for prospective improvements in a troublingly high quantity. Natsuki was astounded by the depth of Izuku's notes, how much love and care he clearly put into her entry. She was the only one in the book; perhaps he had planned on doing more of his favourite heroes. The only other notes were the beginnings of an entry on All Might, on the page right after her's.

Natsuki paused and considered that thought for a moment. Izuku, All Might fanboy that he was, chose to write multiple pages about her and her Quirk before giving so much as a single word to his favourite hero of all time. She flicked back to her entry, noting a sort of postscript-addendum at the bottom of the final page.

'_Naachan is super 's super brave and strong and smart, and I just know that one day she'll be stronger than All Might. Her dream is to be the number one hero, and she's definitely gonna do it. She's gonna be the number one hero some day.'_

'_Naachan is super cool.'_

Unbidden, a memory of one of their last days of preschool came to mind. Izuku had looked miserable all day, which had been weird to Natsuki. She thought his momma had taken him to the Quirk doctor, so he could figure out what his Quirk was.

"_Hey, Izuku, what's your Quirk?" _she had asked, as casually as she could in the middle of the playground, surrounded by other kids.

"_I-I… d-d-don't have one, N-Naachan..." _He had looked afraid of her, unable to meet her gaze.

"_What? What kind of weirdo doesn't have a Quirk?" _Such an idea was utterly inconceivable to her childish mind. Everybody had a Quirk, that was just how the world worked!

The other children had interjected at that point, butting heads into their conversation.

"_Izuku the weirdo, doesn't even have a Quirk!_

"_That's super weird, Izuku."_

"_What're you supposed to do without a Quirk?"_

"_Man, sucks to be Izuku!"_

Izuku had run away that day. And just a few weeks later, he had disappeared. It was… strange, and Natsuki desperately hoped it was a coincidence. But she wasn't so sure, especially not now. She looked over the post-script again, reading deeper into the words there and swallowing hard.

'_She's gonna be the number one hero some day.'_

Natsuki didn't cry. Not quite. She'd already shed her tears for Izuku. But she did tear up, and take a few deep breaths to stop herself from crying. Crying wasn't of any use. What good would crying do for Izuku? She still needed to find him… no matter what it took. She put that notebook in one of her desk drawers, right underneath her pencils. That way, no matter what… she would see it. _Hero Analysis for the Future. _

It was her job to make sure Izuku's future came to be.

[X][X][X][X][X]

Natsuki Bakugou spent the next three years of her life improving herself. She did it not out of a sense of pride or a desire to surpass, but instead because she _needed _to. Because the stronger, faster and smarter she got, the more likely it was she could find Izuku. She blitzed through elementary school, forcing herself to top every class. On the field she was a monster, her body forcibly made strong from the kickback of her Quirk and her refusal to sit still, to always be moving. Her parents watched her grow taller, stronger, until at age eight she was easily the most athletic student in her entire school.

And at age eight her whole life was rocked and reshaped yet again, when she took a right down an alleyway while walking to the store for her mother and nearly tripped over the crumpled form of a person, curled on the cement. She caught herself with a small explosion, the popping sound echoing through the alley, and she heard the figure emit a quiet whimper of fear. Her eyes tracked along it; it was a boy, she figured, from the width of its shoulders and messy but short-ish hair.

Messy green hair.

Natsuki's eyes went wide. Her jaw dropped and then slammed shut a moment later when she crouched down beside the figure that had to be the one person she never expected it to be. She heard that whimper again, the figure shuffling away from her, squirming on the ground. She could see black skin, pitch black, the same colour as a starless night sky. She touched a hand to its shoulder, and shivered at the sheer heat of its skin. She had a natural heat resistance, a minor mutation to protect her from her own Quirk, but this… this was _hot_. Like, pot-off-the-stove hot. Her touch incited a new reaction from the figure.

It cried out, and Natsuki recoiled. It was an animal sound, a sound of raw terror, before suddenly its arm swung up. It had the dense musculature of a boxer or weightlifter, an open hand shoving her away. She _flew_, sailing through the air before slamming into the ground almost ten feet away. She clambered to her feet and saw the thing standing. She saw verdant green eyes, now literally luminescent, glowing in the low light. The thing made a sound like a wounded dog, a soft whine, and hunched down, catching itself on its hands and knees.

She took a step forward, hand out. She wanted to look unthreatening, but… she was Natsuki Midoriya. She was an eight year old with the body of a ten year old boy, besides the natural narrowness of her waist and slightly thinner shoulders. Her sandy blonde hair was in its usual violent spikes, her eyes blood red and probably glimmering slightly in the low light. The thing made another fearful sound, backing away from her, crawling.

Natsuki blinked twice, before dropping into a squat.

"Izuku?" she tried.

The thing reacted with a look of something like awe, mixed with terror.

"N-noooo…" it croaked, shaking it's head slowly, backing away. "N-no Zu-Zuku… only N-Nine…"

It's voice was… it was like Izuku's. But it had dropped a few registers, and it sounded like his throat had been lined with sandpaper. But she would no that stutter anywhere, and those eyes, and that hair. This… this was Izuku.

"Izuku… it's me, it's…" In her mind she scrambled for something, anything, before her eyes went wide. "It's Naachan!"

Izuku… Nine… whatever he was… he shuddered. His eyes went wide, the lights within them brightening, and then suddenly he rushed forward on all fours. Natsuki forced herself not to panic and blast him, letting him come. He skidded to a halt right in front of her, wrapping his powerful arms around her legs.

"N-N-Naachaaaaan…" he rasped, the fear fading from his voice. "Naachan… Naachan… Nine sorry…"

Natsuki touched a hand to his head, scruffing that disaster of a haircut. It was wild, tangled, unwashed. She sniffed and then recoiled a little. Izuku stank, bad. It was obvious he hadn't spent much time washing, and all he was wearing was a filthy pair of shorts. Natsuki considered taking him to the hospital, or the police, before her eyes went wide.

She had found Izuku. Holy. Shit. She had found Izuku. She grabbed his head with both hands, as if making sure to anchor him in place, and stared into his eyes. He shifted, fear returning to his features, and she quickly released his head before he panicked again. Instead she imitated her mother and touched a hand to his cheek, which he nuzzled against.

"Naachan…" he said again. "M-m-momma… safe…?"

"Your moms fine, nerd…" Natsuki said, squatting down in front of him. "Come on, let's go see him. Or… call the cops."

Izuku panicked at that suggestion, eyes going wide. He backed away from her just a little, looking all around them as if checking for listening ears or spies or something. It was almost like he was expecting to be surrounded. This revealed his bare torso to Natsuki's eyes, and they too went wide when she saw… holy shit, were those all scars? Two really long ones, like claw-wounds or something, and a bunch of smaller jagged ones, puckered light purple lines on his stomach and chest.

"Izuku… Izuku, what's wrong?" she asked, before glancing over her shoulder. "Is something wrong?"

"N-n-no c-cops, S-Sensei get m-m-mad if c-cops…" Natsuki's stomach ached suddenly as Izuku curled in on himself again, as if trying to hide in the alleyway. "N-no c-cops n-no mad Sensei n-no knives needles hammers… n-no more test…"

Tests? Knives? Hammers? What was Izuku talking about? Where… where the hell had he been? Who was Sensei? All of these were questions Natsuki asked herself as she stealthily grabbed her brand-new cell phone, tapping the three digits for the police before hesitating with her thumb over the call button. Hopefully they would track her phone and come see what was wrong… unless they thought she was a crank caller or something. Oh man, that would be bad. But Izuku was panicking, freaking out at the idea of the only people she could think of to contact. Then she blinked twice.

"Izuku… what if I called a hero?" she chanced, looking at him.

Izuku seemed to sit up straighter at that idea, his eyes meeting hers again, wide with some of that old Izuku excitement. He practically vibrated in place.

"A-a-a Hero…?" Natsuki could almost hear the capitalization. "F-for N-N-Nine?"

"Yeah, a hero…" Natsuki scrambled to remember any local heroes. Death Arms, maybe? Or that newer guy, Backdraft? The latter was a rescue hero, but more of a firefighter or something. Death Arms was probably a better bet, but… well, his name was Death Arms. Would Izuku, this new black-skinned Izuku that seemed afraid of everything, be able to handle someone like that?

Death Arms it was. She dialled the agency, having memorized the number out of boredom, and then stood listening to the dial tone for a minute or so. Izuku sat passively against the wall, not making a sound, just staring at her.

"_Death Arms hero agency." _a calm woman's voice answered. "_Is this an emergency?"_

"Um, yes…" Natsuki said, and before the woman could comment on her age, she continued. "I-I found a missing person, Izuku Midoriya? He's… um, he's… been changed."

"_Hmmmm…" _ the woman went silent for a moment, the clatter of a keyboard audible over the phone. "_Midoriya… oh my. This case is three years old… are you sure it's him?"_

Natsuki looked at Izuku, who was still staring up at her with an expression somewhere between fear and happiness.

"Yes… he's… he was my friend before he…" Natsuki shook her head. "It-it's him. He… he's been… he's been changed. Can you send someone?"

"Death Arms is currently taking care of a bank robbery, but one of his Sidekicks could come by and take a look." the woman offered. "We could also inform the police."

"No!" Natsuki protested, before looking at a startled Izuku. "No police, he… I mentioned them and he… he panicked. He's… there's something wrong with him, his skin's turned black and he's scared of everything…"

The woman went to say something, but Natsuki missed it when something exploded in the distance. Her eyes went wide, but before she could say anything Izuku stood up and ran on all fours again, this time hurtling away from her and toward the explosion. Natsuki pocketed her phone and took chase, using her explosions to speed herself up.

"Izuku!" she called, before sliding to a halt when she saw the wreckage that was the street outside the alleyway, the roadside strewn with rubble from a blasted-out section of bank. Several unsavoury-looking individuals were running out of the hole, one of them breathing smoke of some kind. Every one of them was wearing a mask; clearly they were at least somewhat organized.

Izuku was running directly for them, on his feet now, sprinting low to the ground. One of them, a larger man likely with some sort of strength-enhancement Quirk, turned to face him. Natsuki saw his eyes go wide and heard a shout of warning die on his lips as Izuku slammed into him with a shoulder-tackle. The man went down hard, Izuku rolling over him to lunge at the man with the smoking mouth. He and the third man, actually a woman judging by her build and the long braid hanging from the back of her mask, both turned to face Izuku.

Izuku slammed a fist into the smoke-guy's face, knocking him backwards, before the woman's fingernails grew at least six inches in length, wickedly sharp edges glinting in the smoke-hazed sunlight. She lunged right back at Izuku and slashed at him with those nail-knife-things, giving him a wicked cut across the chest. Natsuki, circling around to try and help Izuku, saw a long wound open up in Izuku's torso, and winced.

Then Izuku snarled like an angry dog and grabbed the woman's face, throwing her to the floor and stomping on her stomach. He snarled again, raising a fist he could probably kill the woman with, and Natsuki charged in, grabbing at Izuku's arm and screaming his name. Izuku nearly threw her, before freezing.

"N-Naachan…?" he said that stupid kiddie nickname like it was the first time, looking over at her with wide eyes. ""S-sorry…"

A massive figure came through the hole in the bank's side, arms rippling with muscle. He looked all around, a square jaw jutting from a square face and narrow eyes under a metal forehead protector striped in black and yellow. Death Arms, Natsuki placed him purely based on the fact that his biceps were probably twice the size of her head. Izuku saw him and snarled again, but didn't charge. Instead, he shifted so Natsuki was behind him a little more, shielding her with his powerful new body.

Death Arms took in the demolished villains, and then the sight of Izuku. The latter made him pause, slowly raising his fists, before Natsuki grabbed Izuku again and pulled him back.

"Izuku, stop, he's a hero!" she declared, trying to keep the mutated boy calm. "It's okay, he won't hurt us!"

"N-n-no hurting Naachan…" Izuku said, voice lower now, a growl targeted at Death Arms, who was himself staring at the two of them with his head cocked slightly to the side. "Hurting N-Nine, n-n-not Naachan…"

"Is he okay, kid?" Death Arms asked, staring down Izuku with narrowed eyes. "His Quirk out of control or something?"

Natsuki shook her head, and then froze before looking at Izuku again. _Was _his Quirk out of control? Had Izuku triggered a dormant Quirk or something while he was gone? What… what was this whole thing anyways?

"No, no he's just… he's…" She looked him up and down again. "Different… this is Izuku Midoriya! He went missing a few years ago, but he's… he's back and he's changed…"

Natsuki's usually calm, collected demeanour was slipping in the face of all these revelations. Izuku was back. Izuku had a Quirk of some kind. Izuku had just smoked three villains and nearly killed one. Izuku was ready to fight a hero just to protect her. Izuku was…

Izuku was panting hard. Really hard. Izuku's legs were shaking and his eyes were half-lidded.

Natsuki caught him as he fell, wincing at his weight.

Izuku was different.

AN:

What is this? I dunno. Probably a bad idea, but when has that ever stopped me from writing before? This is Instinct, a story featuring a Noumu-Izuku and a female-Katsuki because the former has a lot to offer as a premise and the latter is just sort of a thing I like. Is it gonna be Noumu-Izuku/Fem-Bakugou? Maybe. Probably. But who knows? I actually don't yet. But let your characters surprise you and all that.

Izuku isn't gonna be overpowered here, I can say that much. He's got a weird Quirk mix that should prove interesting if I play my cards right, but beyond that his famed super-brain is gonna be a little... off, in this particular story. As you may have noticed, this story is called Instinct, and for good reason.

So... beyond that, tell me what you thought! I'm an absolute review-hound, even if it's as short as 'I thought it was stupid and you're dumb for writing it', though preferably criticism will be a little more constructive than that.

**Hope you liked it either way you roll, and I'll be back later with another chapter. See ya!**


	2. Chapter 2

Instinct

Inko Midoriya was approximately one more dramatic revelation from bursting into tears for the third time that day. She had first been brought to open weeping by a call at work from the local hospital, informing her that the pro-Hero Death Arms had, with the help of a young girl named Natsuki Bakugou, found her son alive and brought him in for medical treatment. However, she was informed that her beloved Izuku wasn't just alive, but he had changed almost fundamentally in the time since his disappearance.

She had rushed to the hospital in her car, on the brink of violating every speed limit in the prefecture but narrowly avoiding being pulled over. She came to a skidding halt in the parking lot of the hospital, tire's screeching their protest at the sudden friction. She sprinted through the front doors, the fastest she'd moved in several long, childless years, rushing to the empty reception desk. The nurse attendant seemed a little concerned for her, raising a hand as if asking her to slow down.

"My baby!" Inko cried, coming to a stop in front of the desk. "Izuku, my baby! Where is he?"

"Ma'am?" The nurse looked a touch panicked herself, but Inko didn't really care. Her son was alive! He was here! What else mattered besides that?

She looked at the nurse again, trying to collect herself a little. She just needed to ask normally, say her son's name and show that she was his mother. Being a shorter woman, her head and shoulders were the only parts of her visible over the desktop, the rest of her skinny form concealed beneath the desk's edge. After Izuku had disappeared, Inko found it harder to eat, knowing every meal without her son was a meal almost wasted. She had lost weight, going from thin to the brink of being outright underfed, though her friend Mitsuki forced her to eat frequently enough to avoid any serious health concerns.

"I-I'm Inko M-Midoriya..." she explained, trying to calm herself down. "M-my son, Izuku, I-I was told he was here, th-that they found him, is-is he okay?"

"Ma'am?" A new, rumbling voice interjected, just as something heavy came down to touch Inko's shoulder. "Did you say you were Inko Midoriya?"

"Y-yes!" Inko turned and found herself staring at the bottom of a very muscular man's chest clad in tight blue spandex, before slowly looking up to see a square jaw locked in a stoic frown. "O-oh! Y-you m-must be D-Death Arms!"

"Yes." Death Arms nodded. "Mrs. Midoriya, your son is... I believe I'll let the doctors explain. But he isn't hurt."

Inko swallowed. Her son wasn't hurt. He had come back and he wasn't hurt. She could scarcely believe those words, but... she needed to, or she might have just collapsed right there and then. So she looked up at the muscular figure of Death Arms and nodded once, listening intently.

"Can you... can you take me to him?" she asked, and when the hero nodded and beckoned for her to follow, she did so.

Several minutes later, she was crying again.

Her son had changed. His skin was pitch black, his hair longer, his whole body larger. He had a musculature that simply did not belong on a child his age, but he was muscle, skin and bone; he looked underfed, malnourished. There were scars, so many scars, big and small, all over his body. She hugged him and felt the heat emanating from his body, the strange, somewhat rubbery texture of his skin.

Izuku was different. Someone or something had changed him.

But he was alive, and so Inko Midoriya wept tears of joy for his return.

Beside the bed sat her Izuku's old friend, Natsuki. The girl had always been somewhat full of braggadocio when younger, but there was a quiet, almost solemn strength to her now. Once Inko had finished embracing her unconscious son, she rose to her feet and bowed deeply to the blonde girl, who looked surprised to be at the receiving end of a gesture of such respect.

"Thank you," Inko said, smiling a truly grateful smile at the blonde. "For finding my son. For... for bringing him back to me."

"It was nothing..." Natsuki replied, looking perhaps a little flustered, unable to meet Inko's eyes. "I... made a promise to find him, and..."

She swallowed and looked up at Inko, eyes full of a fire Inko just *knew* was the sort heroes were forged in.

"I keep my promises." Natsuki declared. "No matter what."

[X][X][X][X][X]

Detective Komori Tetsuru was never quite sure how on earth he had managed to keep his job. He wasn't particularly intelligent, very much an average student. His Quirk, a simple thing called Light that allowed him to make his hands glow like lanterns, was quite innocuous and didn't really give him an edge in police work. He was of average build, height and weight; the human form of the metaphor 'middle of the road'.

However, he took pride in one thing; his ability to read people. His mother had been a psychiatrist, after all, he was quite capable of identifying people's expressions and what they meant by them. It was his real talent as far as he was concerned, with his Quirk being little more than a party trick that happened to be useful in power outages. Komori specialized in interrogations, a talent that had landed him the rank of detective and a very comfy grey canvas trench coat.

He was glad for the trench coat moreso than his rank at that particular part of his life, as he sat across a young boy calling himself 'Nine', apparently actually named Izuku Midoriya. After having to assure the boy he was not going to hurt him to coax him from the fetal position in the corner of the room, Komori had begun a simple, innocuous round of questions. He had started with simple things, little personal tidbits; what was Izuku, sorry, Nine's favourite colour? (Nine liked yellow and green.) His favourite food? (The crunchy bugs, apparently.) His favourite game? (The fighting game, because he was better at it and that meant no zapping.)

Komori had spent a moment wondering exactly what the hell had happened to Izuku Midoriya to make his favourite food 'the crunchy bugs' and his favourite game 'the fighting game'. It was obvious the boy hadn't exactly been living the high life, what with all the scars and rather evident mental trauma that had reduced him to speaking purely in the third-person and reacting to any and all physical contact with winces and flinching. But the sheer amount of trauma-induced symptoms the boy was clearly exhibiting showed that wherever Izuku Midoriya had gone for three long years, it had been a very dark place.

"So, Nine, where have you been for the last while?" Komori asked.

"Hospital." Midoriya replied, nodding once. "With Mama and Naachan."

"And before the hospital?"

"Running." Midoriya looked concerned, almost guilty. "From Sensei."

Komori swallowed. Progress, but now came the worst part of the job; trying to figure out who 'Sensei' was and why on earth he had abducted a young boy.

"And who is Sensei?" he asked, smiling disarmingly to keep Midoriya calm.

It didn't work.

Midoriya's immediate reaction was to cower, that slight hint of openness and honesty in his eyes disappearing, locked behind a security shutter of fear. His shoulders hunched slightly, his head dropping so he stared at the table instead of meeting Komori's gaze. The slightest hint of a tremble in his shoulders, his heart rate almost audibly increasing.

Komori leaned forward, letting his folded hands rest on the table, before opening them slowly. One of Midoriya's eyes, apparently independent of the other, tracked the motion. The exact nature of his Quirk was still unknown, but this was not in the short memo he had received from the Death Arms hero agency. Komori laid flat hands on the table, before smiling at Midoriya again. The boy's eye tracked upward, the other syncing with it again.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Nine." Komori bowed his head, letting his hands glow every so slightly. "This is the extent of my Quirk. If you wanted to, you could beat me in an instant were I to try and attack you. I've read about your power. You have nothing to fear from me. I simply want the truth; who is Sensei?"

Midoriya stared at his luminescent palms, eyes unmoving and expression unchanging for a long, worrying moment. Then he slowly bowed his head again, staring at the table once more. He was no longer quaking with fear, and his posture loosened ever so slightly. He swallowed, a soft gulping sound.

"Sensei made Nine…" he said, voice low, deadpan. "Sensei made Nine from Zu-Zuku, but Zu-Zuku was weak and Nine was made to be strong. But Nine... too small, not strong and only good for getting chopped and punched so other numbers could be better. Nine was smart, but smart for numbers, not for people. No thinking right, no doing words right… Shigi say 'stupid Nine' and touch it and its arms go away but come back."

Komori just stared. Words failed him for several long moments, before he reached a tentative hand out toward Midoriya, touching him softly on the head. The sound Midoriya made was half the whimper of a kicked dog and half the purr of a cat, an unconscious flinch removing his head from Komori's touch. Komori swallowed, hard.

"Nine…" he tried, before faltering and then trying again. "Nine… w-would you like to see your mother?"

"Mama?" Midoriya looked up at that, hope dawning in his eyes.

"Y-yes… I'm going to need to talk to some people, and your moth- Mama would love to see you in the meantime." Komori said, forcing a smile. "And your friend, the girl…"

"Naachan and Mama?" Midoriya smiled, a real smile, and Komori was once again reminded that this was a _child_, that he was dealing with a boy who was about eight years old. He fought to stop his fists from clenching and bowed.

"Your mother and friend will be here in just a minute, so please wait patiently." he instructed, before turning and quickly exiting the room.

Once the door was shut behind him, he let himself slump, back hitting the wall beside the door frame, reaching up to almost unconsciously adjust his coat so it was a little tighter around him. An uncomfortable mixture of sadness and rage filled him, accompanied by something like disgust. Sadness that a child had to experience something like that. Anger that someone would dare put the boy through it all. And disgust for that same person.

Komori Tetsuru wasn't sure how on earth it was he kept his job. But he now remembered why he stuck with it. Because of people like Izuku Midoriya, who were hurt by the very crimes he was sworn to prevent. Because of people like Inko Midoriya, who spent years suffering because her son had been taken from her. And because of people like the one who had taken and tortured young Izuku Midoriya.

Because bringing that son of a bitch to justice would make every last moment of struggle to reach this position worth it.

[X][X][X][X][X]

In the distance, Natsuki Bakugou could hear sirens. It was this sound that stirred her from sleep, even though she knew it was likely an ambulance returning from its journey with some poor injured or sickly soul inside. She blearily blinked sleep from her eyes, looking all around the hospital room. The gurney was there, the pen and pad were still on the bedside table, Izuku's mom had gone home so she knew why that chair was empty. There was something off, something wrong. The lights were off, sure, but it was seemingly nighttime. What could be wrong about that?

The realization hit her in an instant. Izuku wasn't in his bed. In fact, he was nowhere in sight. Natsuki rose to her feet, looking all around, panicking. She froze when she saw something move in the shadowy corner of the room by the window overlooking the hospital's garden. It was black on black, a shadow in the darkness. It took her a long moment to realize it was Izuku, staring out the window, down at the garden.

"Izuku…?" she said his name, the word spoken with a voice that was more a yawn than it was speech. "Izuku, what're you doing?"

Izuku looked at her, eyes glowing in the darkness. It was a little freaky to see nothing but two circles of green in the shadow, peering out at her, but Natsuki pushed herself out of the chair and yawned, moving toward him. He didn't move, standing stock still. She could hear his breathing; slow, steady. He was calm, she figured.

"Nine was looking…" he said, voice low. "At the trees and flowers. It… it want a flower."

"You want a flower?" Natsuki asked, leaning against the wall on the other side of the window. "Want me to go get you one?"

"No… not for Nine, flowers not for Nine…" Izuku looked out at the garden again. "Flower for Naachan… for thanking."

Natsuki cocked an eyebrow at that, looking closer at him. Izuku was no longer looking at her, but it seemed like he was forcing himself to look away. His skin was pitch black, true, but she could almost detect the faintest flush of something else, something like pink, in amongst the darkness of his complexion. Was he blushing?

"You want to get me flowers?" she asked. "To… to thank me? For finding you?"

"No…" he shook his head, looking back at her again. "Sensei want Nine to be for killing, but Nine… Nine remember Naachan, so no killing. Naachan stopped it. Only hitting until not moving, but still breath. No killing. Naachan and Mama be mad if killing."

Natsuki found herself reaching out to touch a hand to Izuku's head, gently ruffling his hair. He made a sound like a dog, a gentle rumbling in his throat. He was as tall as her, a lot taller than he'd been when he had disappeared. Of course, he'd also gained a bunch of other new details and changes, so this wasn't much special.

"No killing." she agreed, staring down at the garden. "Heroes don't kill. And we're…"

She paused, looking at Izuku again. His eyes were closed, his whole body shivering with puppy-like delight. He was rubbing his head against her hand, making more of those animal sounds of pleasure.

"We're gonna be heroes… right?" she asked, almost wishing she didn't.

"Heroes…?" Izuku said the word like it was the first time. "Naachan… number one hero. Gonna be… and Zu-Zuku want be a hero. Fight and protect people. Help. Lots of help. But…"

He pulled away from her hand, looking at his hospital bed, then out at the garden, anywhere but her face. He looked anxious, afraid, blinking slowly.

"Nine… monster, not hero, for fighting…" he shook his head wildly. "Nine not for hero. Zu-Zuku gone, only Nine, Nine monster… Nine not Zu-Zuku…"

Natsuki swallowed back a lump of something she was afraid to deal with stuck in her throat. Her eyes grew hot, tears pricking at the corners despite her desperate insistence in her heart that she wasn't going to cry, that she was going to be strong for Izuku. Izuku needed her to be strong, because Izuku was hurt and it was her job to protect him. Because that's what a hero did.

Izuku didn't want to be a hero. Or, Nine didn't want to be a hero. Whichever one it was. She didn't now. She couldn't. All she knew was that she couldn't accept that answer. Not now, not after she'd finally found him, not now that he was strong and could stand beside her. Not now that he was here.

"No…" Natsuki shook her head. "FUCK no."

She swore as her mother swore, because her sadness was turning into anger. Because she needed Izuku to understand. Because she was scared and didn't know what to do with all this fear inside her. So she put a hand on Izuku's shoulder, a firm hand, and squeezed tight.

"You're gonna be a hero too, Izuku." she declared, and her voice would brook no argument. "You're going to be a hero with me. We're going to save people. And we're gonna kick the hell out of villains, and we're gonna do it together."

"Nine… hero?" Izuku said, blinking at her. "Nine… hero with… with Naachan? Number one hero?"

"Yes." Natsuki nodded, before putting her other hand on his chest. "Natsuki and Izuku. Heroes. Together. And if you think I'm gonna let you dip out now, you've got another thing coming. Got it?"

"Nine…" Izuku rubbed his face with both hands, palms on his cheeks. "Nine… hero with Naachan, together… Nine… being hero… a hero…"

"A hero." Natsuki declared, before looking at the table beside the hospital gurney. "Come on. I have an idea."

She led him to the bedside table, to the pad and pen. She took the pen and shook it, before jotting something down in her impeccable kanji, tongue between her teeth as she wrote on the first page. Izuku looked over her shoulder, blinking. Hopefully he could still read…

She showed it to him, clicking on the bedside lamp. She blinked at the light, but he seemed to ignore the change, staring at the paper pad with widened eyes. Natsuki watched him read the kanji, swallowing back her nervousness and smiling at him. It was a jagged smile, an attempt at reassurance. It wasn't perfect.

'_Hero Analysis for the Future Number Two'_, the pad read. '_By Natsuki Bakugou and Izuku Midoriya.'_

AN:

How about them Izuku feels, huh? I find one of the most important parts of writing this for me has actually been making it clear that Izuku has _changed_, since I've read a fair few stories in a similar vein to this one where Izuku remains basically the same despite a wildly different childhood, being all analytical and stuttering and nervous and cute and such. I want to get hints of that across (hopefully my efforts were not in vain) while still making this a different Deku from the one you've normally seen.

Hopefully Natsuki's future identity is also hinted at the way I intended it to be. If you're worried she feels nothing like Katsuki, don't be; the angry, swear-y pomeranian with a murderboner we all love is gonna be in here, kind of. Obviously a different childhood once again changes things, but hey; _somebody _needs to be the angry one on the team.

Komori is basically an OC. Don't expect too much from him; I like jotting down little side characters to mix things up and give myself new POVs to work from. Also, the opening scene of this chapter made me want to break my own head. I'll probably change it in the future some time.

As one final note, Izuku's Quirk is going to be called 'It Will Not Die', and the title alone should probably tell you what it does. Anybody able to place the reference in their review gets a cookie and a namedrop in next chapters AN, I suppose.

Hope you enjoyed; next chapter should be up in a few days. Keep the reviews coming and thanks for your feedback, and I'll see you in the next one!


	3. Chapter 3

Izuku Midoriya was alive, and twelve years old.

"Yeah, and he looks freaking creepy." Dao Gineki declared, slapping a hand on the lunch table he and his circle of three friends shared.

"Dude, you can pull your eyeballs out of your skull at will." Doi Kanui retorted, rolling her eyes at his declaration. "You don't get to talk about creepy."

"Still, at least I don't look like... whatever that is." Dao said, shaking his head and glancing over his shoulder at the mutant-boy in question. "Seriously, look at him! He looks like he's made out of rubber or something!"

"I heard he's covered in scars," Genji Tonikori added, the green-haired walking-disaster of Aldera Middle School leaning in. "One of my buddies is in his gym class, he's got all these cuts all over him."

"Yeah!" Another girl agreed, one Imi Tenki, who tossed her hair over her shoulder before continuing. "I'm in his gym class, he's wicked fast and strong but he's so stupid! He needs the teacher to explain, like, exactly what to do for every exercise or he just stands there!"

"Yeah, same in class." Dao said. "He once spent, like, twenty minutes staring at a worksheet before Natsuki leaned over and whispered something to him. He started working after that, though..."

What Dao chose to leave out was that once he had actually begun working on the worksheet in question, Izuku had been one of the highest scoring students in the class. As their home room teacher had once tried to explain, Izuku was simply slow to get started as a side effect of his Quirk; he was just as smart as the rest of them. At least... mostly. His social acumen was greatly lacking.

"What's the deal with him and her anyways?" Doi asked. "Like, are they dating or something? They're always hanging out, and looking at those notebooks together. Can he even read?"

"Izuku can read."

Doi squeaked in surprise, turning to find the subject of the table's discussion standing behind her with a lunch tray in one hand and his backpack in the other. He was smiling, the same gentle smile Izuku always smiled, green hair falling partially over his eyes. On a normal boy it would have been kind of cute, Doi could admit, but on a boy with rubbery black skin and glowing green eyes, it was more freaky than cute.

"Izuku can read, and write, and count as long as he wants." Izuku continued. "Izuku can do all the normal student things."

"Izuku can go away..." Imi muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes and looking back down at her lunch tray.

"Izuku can do that too!" Izuku declared, smiling. "What can they all do?"

It took the assembled gang of four a moment to realize Izuku was addressing them, and they all looked at each other. Imi looked bored, Doi confused, but Genji and Dao shared a cruel smile before looking back at Izuku and addressing him together.

"Well, it's hard to say, but we could definitely show you..." Dao said, leaning against the table. "Behind the school, by the dumpsters, after last block?"

"Izuku can be there!" Izuku smiled, giving them a thumbs up with his bag-hand. "Will they show him something cool?"

"Yeah..." Dao said, glancing at Genji again. "Something real cool, you'll see. Oh, and Natsuki can't come, okay? It's only for guys."

"Only for guys…" Izuku pondered that for a moment, before nodding. "Izuku will tell Naachan that she cannot come behind the school by the dumpsters after last block because Dao and Genji will be showing him something cool only guys can see. Right?"

Dao blinked twice, glancing at Genji, before nodding slowly.

"Yeah… ummmm… that." he agreed. "Oh, and… uh… you just shouldn't mention it to Natsuki at all. You should just come after school, tell her you're… um, doing something by yourself. For once."

Izuku nodded again, before turning around and walking away. The four watched him leave, Genji scratching his chin while Dao chuckled malevolently.

"So… what's the plan?" Genji asked, looking at Dao. "Rough him up a little or something?"

"You wanted to try your Quirk on something, and here's something to try it on." Dao replied, laughing. "We'll see what he does when you hit him with that pain-touch thing. Sound cool?"

Genji seemed to hesitate for a moment, flexing a gloved hand before slowly nodding.

"Yeah…" he considered the possibilities. "The freak's been on the receiving end of some pretty bad hits, apparently. He's got that creepy Quirk, so he can take it. One guy broke his nose and it just sort of popped back into place in like, three seconds."

"It Will Not Die…" Dao said, in a faux-dramatic voice. "What kind of loser named his Quirk something like that? Bet he named it himself, thought it sounded cool."

"Yeah…" Doi laughed, wanting to get back in the conversation. "Ugh, he's so dumb. You two looked like you were gonna steal his freaking lunch and he just stood there."

"And the way he popped up behind you…" Imi said, pointing at Doi. "He's such a creep. Like, does he not understand personal space or something? Ugh."

Little did the assembled four realize that some ten feet away, Natsuki Bakugou was forcibly repressing a murderous rage, disguising it as cold hard contempt as she walked by. She had only heard the tail end of the conversation and the personal insults, drawn nearer by the fact that Izuku was talking to somebody that wasn't her for once, but now… now she was suspicious.

Behind the school after last block, she noted. She'd have to be there.

[X][X][X][X][X]

"So, why aren't they in fucking prison or some shit?" Natsuki Bakugou was pissed. Ardently pissed. Totally pissed. Pissed beyond belief, beyond the ability of even the most stark, basic, matter-of-fact adjective to describe in accurate detail. Her fists were clenched and shaking, her crimson eyes narrowed and glaring, and her teeth clenched and creaking with the pressure her jaw was exerting upon them.

"Izuku has chosen not to press charges." Detective Komori Tetsuru continued to watch as Natsuki Bakugou's anger elevated to new and exciting levels of pissed, her hands quivering with all the effort it took for her not to use her Quirk in front of a police officer out of anger. "You must remember that in spite of all of his progress, he is still… different. He doesn't…"

"He doesn't think it counts if somebody fucks with him." Natsuki finished, spitting the words. "I know. He's 'lost' a lot of shit these last few years. Books, games, money, clothes… he doesn't get that he's allowed to say no."

The two were sitting at a small cafe on the ground floor of the local hospital, just a few blocks away from Aldera middle school where Izuku's blood was still drying on the concrete behind the school, by the dumpsters. Komori glanced at his watch; half past five. He would be late for his date. That was fine; as lovely as Miss Koumo Hado was, she was also well aware of his job as a detective, and the personal case he had taken to managing in the form of young Izuku Midoriya.

Izuku was four floors above them, confused in a hospital bed having just regrown most of his left arm after an 'accident' involving one of his classmate's Quirks getting out of control. Izuku was fine, more than fine, his Quirk made sure of that. As strange a name as 'It Will Not Die' was, Komori had to admit it was quite impressive. Regeneration on a scale almost unheard of, at the cost of some thinking power as the brain was reworked into a more primitive state. It was a sort of mutant/emitter hybrid apparently, requiring unconscious activation in the face of harm and otherwise dormant, forcibly putting the body into a state of hyper-elevated activity, running all systems on full power to restore functionality.

The doctors had noted that it was very possible Izuku could survive decapitation if one were to stick his head back on and let his cells handle the rest. This was… an interesting thesis, and one that actually saw his mother faint into unconsciousness after it was proposed. Komori certainly hoped it was never tested; Izuku had suffered more than enough in the years since his return, let alone during his three year disappearance.

"And that's the issue." Komori spoke slowly, calmly, trying to explain the situation to Natsuki. "Izuku doesn't understand it. He technically gave consent, though it's suspect, but we can't make a case against his attackers if he refuses to press charges. He genuinely believes they have done no wrong."

"He'll always fucking believe that!" Natsuki snapped back. "He… he doesn't fucking care about himself! I don't even know if he'd eat if his mom didn't fucking force him to! He only cares about other people! He'll get punched in the throat or some shit and just walk it off but the moment you fuck with some kid he'll try and put you in the dirt!"

Natsuki's hands clenched and unclenched, the occasional tiny fireworks-pop displaying just how angry she was at that point. Komori wanted to reach out and put a hand on her shoulder, but he was worried doing so might end up with her blowing something (probably him) to pieces.

"He's so fucking frustrating and I know it isn't even his fault!" she continued, staring down at the table with a look that could melt steel. "I tried to convince him to fight back against these two shitheels who would take his lunch money and he told me it was fine because he could just eat 'the free food'. I asked what the fuck he meant and he pointed at a garbage can and FUCK!"

The last word was shouted, drawing the attention of nearby hospital-visitors and a security guard. The latter began moving toward the two, until Komori silently looked up and shook his head. Unfortunately, the security guard knew Komori's face by now, and his position, and slowly backed away with a nod.

"I just want him to understand he's still a fucking person…" Natsuki's anger was still there, bubbling below the surface now, but she had forced it down and away, body stiffening up. "I want him to be able to fucking smile at people again without them wincing. He doesn't even look that fucking creepy, he's just got weird skin and eyes. Fuck, my mom has weird skin and eyes and half my school wants to fuck her!"

Komori, displaying the wisdom of an older man, chose not to acknowledge that closing statement, instead taking a long sip of his tea and refusing to think of Mitsuki Bakugou. It worked, mostly, and he placed a (slightly glowing, he and Natsuki had the same issue with emotional responses from their Quirks) hand on the table before sighing deeply.

"We can't force Izuku to change." he said. "It's a delicate process. If we push too hard or go too fast we risk losing what progress we've made these last five years. You said he's caught up in school, he's using full sentences and he's aware of when people are paying attention to him. He _is _getting better, but let us not forget it took him two years to stop accidentally calling himself 'Nine'."

Natsuki nodded, shivering slightly at the memory. Komori couldn't blame her; breaking that particular habit had scared Izuku deeply, to the point where he had tried to run away. Natsuki had stopped him, but at the cost of his trust for several weeks. Izuku had come back around, but Natsuki…

Natsuki still remembered. Komori knew she did because she was doing the same thing she always did when she remembered, she was biting her lower lip and trying not to punch the table. There were many things Natsuki Bakugou could stand for; she had few friends at school besides Izuku, and she put herself through hell with her training for UA in two years. But anything involving Izuku also involved her own zero-tolerance policy. Her anger was almost palpable now, and Komori was aware that any wrong moves on his part could end… explosively, both literally and metaphorically.

"Natsuki," he said, staring her down. "Izuku needs your help. He doesn't need your anger."

"You think I don't fucking know that?" she asked him, slamming her fists into the table. "I've been keeping my fucking calm this whole time! No matter how many times I hear those useless extras at school run their mouths about him I always stay quiet. Even when he's falling to pieces in one of those fucking flashbacks I don't get mad, I hug him and tell him he's okay and shit."

Komori hadn't been certain Natsuki was a girl capable of hugging anything, let alone a friend, but apparently she was to some extent. He found it rather telling that he couldn't even visualize the action in his head, so used was he to the fiery, loose cannon of a girl sitting across from him eschewing all forms of physical contact that weren't typically associated with combat. He had seen her home environment once before; she and her mother had a relationship he would have labelled toxic if he wasn't aware of the genuine affection the two shared under the cursing and shouting.

"So then, what comes next?" Komori asked, giving the rest of the cafe a cursory glance and noting that they had drawn a whole lot of attention to themselves. "Because Izuku has been getting better, but you and I need to figure out what to try and help him with now. People don't just _lose _their self-preservation instinct; we know Izuku is afraid of pain. We just need to figure out why he's so trusting all the time."

"Those fuckers probably did something to his brain." Natsuki replied. "He doesn't respond so well to suggestions, but give him an order and he'll listen right up. It's fucking annoying sometimes, and the teachers still don't get it. At school, if you tell him to do a worksheet, he'll do it, but if you just sit it in front of him without saying anything he's just as likely to try and eat it."

"He's eating paper again?" Komori asked.

"No, not really." Natsuki replied. "Bug free for a while now too. He eats like crazy though; his mom packs him these huge bentos, and he just seems to be getting bigger every freaking day."

"The doctors said his Quirk produced some sort of super-cells, so it's probable he just needs to eat to make more." Komori said. "He's eating, good, and he's at least trying to do his schoolwork. What about heroism? Is he still interested?"

Natsuki laughed. It was almost mocking, but Komori was just surprised that she could still laugh. She was usually painfully serious, no doubt a result of having to serve as Izuku's caretaker whenever he wasn't with his mother. But here she was, laughing at him, and it made Komori feel just a little better.

"Of course he fucking is." Natsuki said, bringing her laughter to a halt for long enough to catch her breath. "He's a mess, but he's a mess who's gonna be a hero. It's the only thing he cares about any more, besides his mom and every other sorry sack of meat on this shithole planet. He and I write up notes and ideas and shit about it all the time. It's practically his entire reason for being right now."

"So Izuku still wants to be a hero?" Komori breathed a sigh of relief, before Natsuki laughed again.

"Nah, Izuku doesn't want to be a hero." She shook her head. "Izuku _is _a fucking hero. He just needs the paperwork and he'll be ready to one up every sorry son of a bitch climbing the charts right now."


	4. Chapter 4

Instinct

Natsuki Bakugou was fourteen, and cold.

This was an annoyance to her; she often tried her hardest to stay warm, hide from the winter and the cold it brought, since to her cold was an equivalent to weak. People didn't sweat when they were cold, and she needed sweat to make explosions. No sweat, no explosions. Cold equalled no explosions, and no explosions thereby equalled unsafe. It was a simple state of affairs, and one she had lived with for most of her life.

She was curled up in a thick winter coat, mittens and boots, while her best friend (and to some extent, only _real _friend) Izuku Midoriya sat beside her, wearing a hoodie, jeans and sneakers. Izuku Midoriya didn't really care one way or the other about the cold; it was just another state of being to him, the same as being hot, or wet, or dry. These things didn't phase Izuku, not as they would others. However, Izuku Midoriya was not cold. He was in fact quite warm, and his hoodie and jeans had little to do with it.

Izuku Midoriya had a Quirk. It was a curious Quirk in that defied the usual rules for Quirks as a whole; it was a mutation with a subconscious trigger, thereby defying the standard rule for mutations Quirks as 'always active' since Izuku's was only 'usually active'. Such as right now, as his Quirk, named 'It Will Not Die' after a scientist's murmured remark on one of his extracted blood cells and its befittingly undying nature, was doing what it did best; changing something about Izuku for the better.

In this case, his forcibly hyper-evolved cells were running hotter than usual, turning Izuku Midoriya into a portable furnace in the shape of a young man with almost rubbery black skin, luminescent green eyes and a mess of dark green hair. He was sitting quietly at the bus stop, rocking back and forth slowly and staring up at the ceiling with a smile on his face. He was counting the number of falling snowflakes he could see, one by one.

Natsuki was hugging herself and shivering, a far less enjoyable pastime, but she couldn't complain. She was never a winter-type person. Her Quirk made her more resistant to heat, but this itself meant she was more vulnerable to the cold. It was not a fun state of affairs, especially as this was one of the coldest winters on local records so far, and it only showed signs of getting colder. She longed for the warmth of her room, where two space heaters and the house furnace all ran at full power to turn her personal domain into a toasty warm little oven where snow was naught but a distant nightmare.

She made a growling sound under her breath, and she could practically _feel _Izuku stiffen up beside her, head jerking downwards so he could face her and then scan their surroundings. Izuku was jumpy to the extreme, perhaps a little too much so, but it meant that there were few things that ever took the two off-guard. Little did he know that in this case, Natsuki was not warning him of incoming danger but instead her own silent suffering in the weather.

"Something wrong, Naachan?" Izuku asked. "Izuku cannot smell any danger."

"It's nothing, Izuku, forget about it." Natsuki sniffled, rubbing her face with one hand before shoving it back into her armpit, where it was at least kind-of warm. "Just the weather."

"The snow is very pretty." Izuku nodded as if in agreement, looking up at the sky again. "Izuku has counted one-thousand-four-hundred and eighty-seven… eighty-eight snowflakes. Eighty nine…"

He stopped counting aloud, before looking back at Natsuki. His eyes narrowed a moment, as if scanning her, before he shook his head slowly.

"Naachan doesn't look like she enjoys the snow." he said, frowning. "Does Naachan think snow is bad?"

"No, just cold." Natsuki said, rubbing her thighs together to build up some friction and heat. "Ugh… freaking winter. Being all cold and shi- stuff…"

"Mmmhm." Izuku hummed his assent before looking back at the sky. "Naachan does not like the cold?"

"Nope." she said, looking at him this time. "Cold means snow."

"And Naachan does not like the snow?" Izuku once again asked, looking at Natsuki."

"He-Heck no!" Natsuki shouted, pointing at the sky. "It's cold and wet and sticks to everything and piles up like puddles but worse since it gets in your boots and is all cold and nasty, and it goes down your shirt and in your ears and UGH."

She spat onto the road, where a snowbank was slowly building up beside the curb. There was little wind today, only the snow, so the snow was free to pile thick and heavy all over the streets, sidewalks and rooftops. Natsuki took a longing look up and down the street, frowning. Her hopes were crushed by the lack of a school bus on either side. Izuku was staring at the sky again, a quizzical look on his face.

"Cold and wet?" Izuku asked. "But… cold and wet feels nice!"

Natsuki made a retching sound, before looking back at him. His opinions confused her, until she remembered his inability to actually feel the cold thanks to his cells… that probably made it a rather novel sensation, even refreshing perhaps. But that didn't make her feel any warmer, herself.

"But Naachan feels cold different from Izuku…" Izuku said, continuing down his train of thought. "So Naachan does not like the cold, since it is not nice for Naachan. Which means Naachan wants to feel warm…"

Suddenly and without any prior warning, Izuku reached over with both arms and wrapped them around her chest and shoulders, hugging her tight to his chest. He hummed, a deep rumbling in his chest that Natsuki could feel in her own chest, and she blinked rapidly in surprise. Izuku was fully capable of hugging but this was a little… odd. Especially given his usual nervousness about physical nearness.

Things only got weirder when he picked her up, and placed her on his lap. Izuku was a large boy for his age, not exactly a giant but quite sizable as far as fourteen year old boys went. But he had never seemed it until Natsuki felt him pressing all around her, his arms around her torso and her butt planted on his lap. She was suddenly engulfed by warmth, from every angle, radiating from his body.

Human-shaped furnace indeed.

"Izuku?" she asked, forcing herself to not stammer. "What are you doing?"

"Making Naachan warm." Izuku replied, before placing his chin atop her shoulder and nuzzling into her neck, spreading warmth there, before switching to the other shoulder and doing the same thing. "Naachan doesn't like the cold because it feels bad, since she cannot sweat when it is cold and Naachan need sweat to make explosions. So Izuku will make Naachan able to sweat and then she can feel good again. Izuku likes making Naachan feel good."

Natsuki blushed in spite of herself, trying to convince herself in her head that it was just a side effect of the sudden heat. But then Izuku purred like a freaking cat and she shivered down to the bones. Izuku seemed to read this reaction as a sign of her temperature dropping, and gripped her a little tighter. She couldn't bring herself to protest; this was much better than freezing her butt off on the bench, and even if it was a little humiliating she could handle it in exchange for this wonderful warmth.

The two sat there for a good hour, until Natsuki realized that her phone had been going off for over half that, blowing up with texts from her mother informing her that school had been cancelled for the day due to the buses being unable to run in the snow.

And even as she walked home leaning into Izuku, his powerful arm around her shoulder still at her request, she noted that she regretted nothing.

[X][X][X][X][X]

Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu (son of Tetsutoro Tetsutetsu) was having what many would consider a fine day. He was on the fourth kilometer of his afternoon jog, after all, despite the falling snow and sub-zero temperatures. Heroes, he knew, operated in all conditions, rain or shine, snow or… not snow. Tetsutetsu couldn't really think of an opposite there, having already used shine. But despite his lacking vocabulary he knew for a fact that if he were to be a hero, the Fullmetal Hero Real Steel, he would have to be ready to fight for justice in any weather.

So onward and forward he trudged, through snow that grew knee-deep at points. He marvelled at how quickly it had consumed the city; there were few cars on the streets, and no buses were running as snowplows ran valiant missions to keep the most major streets at least somewhat clear. Tetsutetsu was okay with the solitude; he was used to working out alone.

He came to a sharp corner and rounded it at full speed, unprepared for what was awaiting him on the other end. He came into contact with something about as big as his generally imposing, muscular frame, bouncing back slightly. The thing he hit did the same, and Tetsutetsu raised a fist and readied a shout before freezing when he saw rubbery black skin, luminescent green eyes and forest green hair. It was a boy, perhaps about Tetsutetsu's age, with his arm wrapped around a very, _very _well-bundled... girl? Under the massive parka and multiple layers of pants Tetsutetsu could hardly tell.

"Watch where you're going, asshole!" the girl (the voice was a dead giveaway) shouted, her voice muffled by the scarf covering her entire lower face.

"It is okay, Naachan, Izuku is fine." the green-haired boy smiled, looking at Tetsutetsu. "Is he okay as well?"

Tetsutetsu blinked once, then twice, before looking around. He was fine, but… who was the kid talking about. Was there someone behind him? Had he hit someone while falling? He couldn't see anyone… and who was Izuku?

"Is he okay?" he heard the voice repeat, before very warm hand touched his shoulder and he turned to see the green-haired boy, concern drawn all over his face. "Did Izuku hurt him by accident? Izuku is very sorry…"

The boy bowed his head in apology, and Tetsutetsu blinked twice again before it clicked. The kid _was _Izuku, he was just talking about… himself. In the third person. Like a narrator or something, but… not. That must have meant that 'he' was…

"Oh, no, I'm fine!" Tetsutetsu gave the kid a thumbs-up, grinning. "Takes more than a random collision to knock me down!"

"Ah." Izuku smiled. "He does look very strong… does he work out often? Is he on a run? In the snow? He must be very dedicated to getting in shape, but he does not look like he is trying to lose weight. So he must be working to get stronger… perhaps he wants to be a hero like Izuku and Naachan?"

Tetsutetsu's eyelids were getting tired of all the blinking, but he blinked twice more anyways. That had been one heck of a run-on statement, and the fact that the kid was completely right was a little… off-putting. But also sort of cool. Maybe he was some kind of super-genius, and smarts were his Quirk? As much as Tetsutetsu liked his own Quirk, he couldn't deny that being insanely smart was probably more useful in the long run than what he could do.

"Ummm… yeah, that's… that's about it." he nodded slowly, before getting back into himself and grinning again. "The name's Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu, and I'm gonna be a hero!"

He shot the two another thumbs-up, before noticing that the girl in the massive jacket was rolling her eyes while the boy just smiled.

"Great, even his _name _sounds like an extra's name…" the girl muttered, staring at Tetsutetsu. "What kind of name is that? Do you have a stutter or something?"

Tetsutetsu felt his blood go from cold to boiling in but a moment. He was okay with being made fun of for a lot of things. His massive beige eyelashes. His messy grey hair. Even his lack of overwhelming intelligence. But nobody, not even a girl, was allowed to make fun of the honorable Tetsutetsu family name. Nobody!

"You'd better watch your mouth!" he declared, raising his voice and pointing a finger at the girl. "I won't hesitate to hit a girl, not if she makes fun of my name!"

"It's the same name four times." the girl replied. "Come on, get some originality."

Tetsutetsu glowered, and without thinking he swung a fist. He was wearing some thick gloves due to the weather, so the impact would likely be muted a little, but this was still a powerful blow. Then… something happened.

The green-haired boy intercepted his punch with his own chest, which was akin to punching a cliff, or perhaps a particularly sturdy brick wall. Tetsutetsu's eyes went wide when his fist bounced off the boy's chest, before suddenly a powerful blow slammed into his own chest and sent him flying.

He hit the snowbank and there was an explosion of powdery white that filled the air and made it impossible for him to see for a long moment. He clambered to his feet, having landed on his back, and saw the boy standing in front of the girl, dropped into a low crouch and breathing heavily. Muscles were visibly tensing and bulging under his clothes, and Tetsutetsu could tell by the size of his biceps that this kid could _hit_.

"No hurting Naachan…" the boy snarled, voice totally different. Before it was kindly, gentle, the sort of voice one would expect a jovial younger brother to possess. Now it was harsh, growling, an enraged animal, an attack dog ready to go on the offensive.

Tetsutetsu triggered his Quirk, and his skin turned to steel. It was a useful Quirk, but this kid looked _mad _with a capital 'M' and ready to tear him apart. He felt something like fear seeping into his bones; this was like standing opposite a wild animal. He didn't know what was going to happen next, all he knew was that he was likely going to get hurt.

Tetsutetsu thrilled at the sensation. This was what he thought a fight should be! Two men ready to throw down, fist to fist and foot to foot, beating the hell out of each other for honour and glory, taking and receiving in equal measure. He dropped his own stance and raised his glittering metal fists, still wrapped up in his gloves. He grinned a savage grin and beckoned the boy, Izuku, closer.

Then the girl smacked Izuku in the back of the head with an open hand and a hearty 'thud', and the boy dropped down to all fours and _whined. _Like a _dog_.

Tetsutetsu blinked again.

"Izuku, no killing extras because they're mad at me." she said, looking down at Izuku, who looked painfully ashamed and guilty. "We've been over this. Would All Might attack idiots for trying to fight his friends?"

"No…" Izuku replied, staring at the snowy sidewalk. Tetsutetsu blinked again.

Who on earth _were _these two?


	5. Chapter 5

Instinct

Izuku Midoriya was a damaged individual. He was entirely aware of this, of course. His classmates and peers would never let him forget it. Every Thursday afternoon he went to spend an hour with a counsellor who would spend approximately an hour reassuring him that he was in fact still damaged, and every time he looked in the mirror he could see himself in all his damaged glory. Hell, every time he spoke he could hear the damage in his persistent third-person perspective and slower cadence. He couldn't process thoughts in the first-person any more, his mind had dissociated so much from his body at that point he wasn't even sure he was still fully in control.

Sometimes something else would take over, in situations of extreme stress. He didn't know if it was his Quirk, or maybe just some form of a natural fight or flight reaction taken to an extreme by his past. All he knew was that it was unstoppable when triggered until it deemed him safe, which thanks to his aforementioned brokenness was a very flexibly defined state. He had only ever triggered this 'other' three times since his escape from Sensei. The first was the escape itself, the second his fight with the criminals after being found by Naachan. The third was a fight with bullies, where one attempted to use him as a test dummy for his Quirk.

Izuku Midoriya had two friends, Natsuki Bakugou and Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu. Or, as Naachan (Natsuki) was wont to call him, Metalhead, since 'the same word four times is a stupid flipping name'. She hadn't said flipping, but she also hadn't known Izuku was standing right behind her and therefore had no clue that she wasn't supposed to swear. Izuku wasn't sure why exactly Naachan wouldn't swear in front of him; she seemed fine with it when it was just Tetsutetsu, who was himself averse to swearing as it 'wasn't what a hero would do'.

The fact that several high-profile heroes, among whom numbered Endeavour himself, were almost infamous for their occasional outbursts of withering language was one Tetsutetsu seemed ignorant of, and Izuku was very much okay with allowing that to remain. Tetsutetsu was a good person, he had decided. Kind hearted, if rough around the edges and somewhat dense. Perhaps it was due to his Quirk; being able to turn to steel was undoubtedly useful, but also somewhat taxing on the body. Izuku remembered once hearing that iron was important to brain growth and development. Perhaps by training with his Quirk, Tetsutetsu was depriving his brain of that valuable mineral?

Izuku would have to look into it further, or suggest the idea to Naachan. She would likely know what to do with such a situation. He knew meat was good for iron, but she would likely know the right meats. Izuku hoped for Tetsutetsu's sake chicken was on that list. Izuku couldn't imagine life without chicken.

Izuku was considering all of this while rocking back and forth, perched atop a tree branch some twenty feet from the ground. The tree was a lovely tree, an old maple covered in the new growths of spring. The branches were still mostly barren, but the buds of potential leaves were sprouting all over, giving Izuku a nice surface to squat on. The branch he had chosen was long and thick, unlikely to give under his weight. In spite of his size Naachan was not wrong to label him 'muscle and bone', his physique less that of a trained bodybuilder and more-so of a wiry street urchin, all whipcord muscle and sharp, defined lines.

He wasn't wearing a shirt. Izuku rarely wore shirts if he didn't need to, and for now his shirt was hanging from his shorts, where he had hung them, stuffing a few inches of fabric past his waistband. Perhaps it looked silly to others, but Izuku didn't mind. Making people laugh was a way of making them smile, and All-Might said a true hero was one who made the people smile. Izuku smiled himself at that thought. Some people said his smile was scary, thanks to his bizarre skin and glowing eyes. Izuku was far less sure about that; scaring people was a bad thing in the hero business. At least, scaring innocents. Villains being just a little afraid of you was probably a good thing; Izuku had learned that lesson from Endeavour.

Izuku let his keen eyes wander across the terrain beneath him; he was on the outskirts of a small forest by the old park where he and Naachan had spent their childhoods, before Sensei took him and made him whole by breaking him. He could see the jungle gym he and Naachan had constantly fallen from, the swings they had pushed each other on, the merry-go-round that they had spun until they'd flown off, and started puking from the motion sickness. Izuku smiled again, this time in longing nostalgia. He had been silly then, young and foolish, full of star-crossed dreams and fantasies. He had wanted to be All-Might's apprentice and sidekick, fighting crime and saving lives.

He still wanted to fight crime, and he especially wanted to save lives. But All-Might was a distant dream; it wouldn't do for the Symbol of Peace to become friends with a monster. Izuku was okay with that now. He didn't mind being a monster. A gentle breeze stirred the smaller branches of his maple as he looked to the sky.

It was Izuku's birthday. He had celebrated with Naachan and Tetsutetsu and his beloved mother, and even his father had tuned in via video-chat. That had been an experience; Hisashi Midoriya rarely had the time to contact his family, thanks to the differing time zones while he worked his job in Europe. Izuku didn't really know what his father did; apparently he was an agent for some company, travelling the world and selling their services far and wide. Izuku thought that sounded quite neat indeed. Izuku loved his father, even if he had only met the man in person a few times.

The first was shortly after he had been rescued by Naachan, when the man had managed to make time to come back to Japan to see his son in the hospital. Hisashi Midoriya was built like his son; tall and lean. He had dark brown hair, almost black, and cool green eyes like Izuku and his mother that purportedly gave Naachan the creeps. He had embraced his son, and when Izuku had asked his father if monsters could be heroes, his father had smiled a strange, knowing smile.

"Anybody can save people." Hisashi Midoriya had said, before kissing his son on the cheek. "Even monsters."

Izuku hoped his father could come home again soon. He wanted to show him how he had progressed, how strong he was becoming in body and in mind. He was getting better, Naachan and Tetsutetsu could both clearly see it, as could his own mother. He rarely had his flashbacks any more, and had learned how to fend them off himself. His nightmares ended now in cold sweats rather than screams, and his broken speech was as clear as it could ever be. He just couldn't drop the third-person; it was as natural to him as breathing, even inside his own mind. Speaking in the first person felt strange, off-putting. There was no separation in that, and that was odd.

Izuku looked at the sky again, drinking in the brilliant blue. Whenever he thought about Sensei, about the dark place, he just had to look at the sky. The sky was open and bright and beautiful, in day or in night. It was free, like he was free, and the sky meant he could go anywhere and do anything. He could be more than Nine, the monster and weapon and dog. He could be Izuku Midoriya. He could be a hero.

"Anybody can save people." Izuku spoke into the wind, letting it steal his words away and carry them into the forest. "Even monsters."

He scented the air, noting a familiar smell. Tetsutetsu; the smell of metal and sweat. The boy smelled permanently of a gym, not that this was a bad thing. He could also smell the sugary sweet scent of nitroglycerin, of Naachan. Naachan was his favourite smell, but whenever he told her that she always turned a funny shade of red and refused to look at him.

Izuku Midoriya was not stupid. He knew what this meant, and why it was important. He also knew that he would not say anything. It was up to Naachan to tell him how she felt. Agency was important to her, and he couldn't force her into a decision by revealing that he knew. Forcing people to do things, whether by force or by cunning, was a villainous action. And Izuku was no villain. Just a monster.

But even monsters could be heroes.

"Yo!" Izuku could hear Tetsutetsu calling, seeing him in the park, one arm raised. "Izo-bro! Whatcha doin' up there?"

Izuku leapt from his branch and landed lightly on all fours, catlike in his posture. He was quite good at falling and not getting hurt, almost amazing at it. He stood up, feeling the slight pain in his arms and legs fading almost immediately as his Quirk fixed whatever minor damage was present. He raised a hand as well.

"Izuku is coming!" he declared, jogging toward the two. He could see Naachan turning red a little, realizing he wasn't wearing a shirt. He fumbled for it and began pulling it back over his head.

Izuku Midoriya was a damaged person. He had been broken once before. He was a monster.

But Izuku Midoriya didn't care. Because anybody could save people.

Even monsters.

[X][X][X][X][X]

Detective Komori Tetsuru was having a good day. He had been invited to dinner by an extremely excited Izuku Midoriya, and was looking forward to attending. He had been working at young Midoriya's case for years now, and while he wasn't having quite as much luck as he had hoped in hunting down clues as to the boys whereabouts in his three years of disappearance, he had recently stumbled upon his first real big breakthrough.

Officially, the Izuku Midoriya case was closed. The boy had been found. Case ended. But Komori had been watching for any clues on the side, little details that might reveal what had happened to the boy and perhaps even a hint as to the identity of the boy's kidnapper. But he had found nothing for six long years. Until yesterday, when a friend of his in Homicide had called his cellphone and told him that there was something.

A dead body. Suicide was the ruling, but the corpse didn't matter. What mattered was his identity. A Doctor Kakure Hakuda had shot himself in the head, and his suicide note had been little more than a list of names. At first it had seemed random, until closer examination revealed that those names were all the names of missing children from the last ten years. Further examination revealed that every single child had disappeared around age five, after going to a Quirk doctor for an examination and official registration.

That doctor had been, in all but two cases, Kakure Hakuda. This was a breakthrough; Kakure knew something. Something big. His assets had been seized, and in his personal records and journal he had recorded a series of passages of particular interest to Komori Tetsuru.

It mentioned a boy. Izuku Midoriya. Furthermore, it mentioned regret, great and horrible regret, as well as a note that Kakure had 'consigned the boy to something like death, though perhaps death would be a greater mercy than what he will do'. 'He' was never named but it was still something important. Izuku had mentioned a 'Sensei', a man who had apparently been a central figure during Izuku's missing years. Perhaps Sensei was the 'he' mentioned in the note? Komori believed so.

Komori had received a digital transcript of the journal, and was feverishly reading it on his phone while walking toward the restaurant he was supposed to meet the Midoriya family at. He stared at the screen as he made his way down the sidewalk, occasionally sidestepping other travellers with a muttered apology. He slipped between two women, before dodging a large man with a horn sticking out of his head, bowing his head slightly lower. A girl with bright pink skin and a pair of curly horns pricking out from under equally pink hair, the man's daughter most likely, just smiled and waved.

Komori looked up quickly, checking a street sign and wincing. Dinner in ten minutes, and he was at least twenty minutes from the restaurant. Not that big of a deal, Izuku and Inko Midoriya were both extremely polite, understanding people, but Komori couldn't bare the thought of being late to Izuku's birthday dinner and therefore potentially causing the boy some measure of distress. A quick glance about revealed a convenient alley, swimming in deep, dusky shadow thanks to the slowly setting sun. Komori smiled, lit up one of his hands, and entered the alley.

The alley was large, and slightly windy, due to its placement between a large outlet store and some sort of apartment complex of suspicious size. Komori made his way through it with a glowing hand raised, moving past dumpsters, garbage cans and piles of discarded trash. It was a stinking, dirty place, a forgotten little corner of the city where garbage men clearly came rarely, and sanitation workers even less often.

Komori heard something behind him, something like metal scraping on stone, but when he turned he saw nothing in the shadows. He narrowed his eyes, suspecting some mugger perhaps, or a vagrant desperate for cash. He saw naught but trash however, and blinked before turning.

Something hard crashed into his temple as he turned, and he hit the ground dazed as his legs turned to rubber. His hand's glow faded, but just before it disappeared, he saw someone standing over him, someone wearing a black suit that looked quite out of place in an alley such as this one. It was a man, with long hair that was a bright neon pink, a strange contrast to his sombre black suit. In his hand was a long black rod that looked suspiciously like a cane. The man had a grim expression on his face, almost dour, perhaps even angry.

It turned to a look of shock in the moment when Komori raised a hand and cranked his Quirk up to the max, a veritable beacon of light exploding from his raised arm, blinding the man. Komori scrambled to his feet, swinging at the man with a right hook while letting the light from his left fade so he too could see. The man's eyes opened, blinking away spots, before Komori's fist crashed into his jaw. The man staggered backwards, and Komori lunged with another punch. The man's eyes flashed a deep red colour, glowing in the low light of the alleyway.

Then Komori felt a splitting pain in his back, and he realized the man was behind him now. The pain grew worse when the man moved, something sticking out of Komori's back twisting painfully. Komori dropped to his knees, a wet, sticky heat slowly leaking down his back. The pink-haired man tore whatever it was in his back out, and the leak turned to a stream, before the man stepped over his crumpled form. The end of his cane had ejected some sort of metal blade, at least six inches long, most of its length covered in sticky red gore. Komori's sticky red gore, he suspected.

The man stared down at Komori with those dark eyes for a moment, before smashing the detective in the face with the blunt end of his cane-spear. Komori's world spun for a moment, and when everything went still again he realized the man was crouched in front of him now, one hand under his chin, propping his head up.

"I apologize for this, Detective Tetsuru." the pink-haired man said, voice low. "But Sensei has requested you die. And I will do as my Sensei commands."

Komori didn't even feel the blade slip into his throat, laying open his throat for all the world to see. He passed out from blood loss a moment sooner, eyes closing.

He was found a day later, after failing to show up to work on time. His phone had disappeared, as had his wallet, leaving many to suspect a mugging gone wrong. Komori Tetsuru was buried in a small cemetery to the east of Tokyo, beside his family.

Of his killer there was no sign, and no evidence.


	6. Chapter 6

Instinct

The Hero-Killer sat alone in an empty warehouse, somewhere on the coast near to Tokyo. A whetstone rasped along the edge of an already razor-sharp steel blade, the sound a gentle wail in the darkness of that dark place. Beside him a small box-TV played the news, the feed surprisingly clear despite his use of an archaic antennae to pick up the station's single.

"_In other news, four dead in Shizuoka prefecture as of yesterday's casualty report, three of whom were professional heroes." _The anchor-woman's voice was smooth, soothing, even delivering such gruesome news as this. "_All killings follow the modus-operandi of the Villain known as Stain, whom some of you may know instead as the Hero-Killer."_

The man in question frowned to hear his name so brazenly spoken. He had thought himself to be a secret kept by the government and the police, a shadowy boogey-man to be kept hidden from the public for as long as possible. He had yet to go public himself; for now he was reliant on killing minor heroes, slowly drawing the attentions of the masses as he cut down leeches and parasites. Only once he had the whole hero-industry (he scoffed just _thinking_ of such a disgusting institution) in fear could he reveal himself.

But now he was public, at least in part. At least there were no pictures; he had been careful to avoid the attentions of any journalists. Already there were a few online who theorized what he might look like, what his Quirk might be. Some pondered what his goal was, and while some small part of him toyed with the idea of addressing them in the anonymity and security of the world-wide web, he discarded that thought quickly. It wouldn't be safe, no matter how much effort he put into hiding his tracks.

"You're public now." spoke a voice from behind, and Stain blinked when he realized his whetstone was now beside him on the crate, rather than in his hand. When had he put it away?

"Congratulations." the voice continued, dry and quiet. "Perhaps next you'll be famous."

The Hero-Killer, turned, blade outstretched. He cut nothing, because there was nothing there to cut, but his sword did take off the top of the television's antennae. The anchor-woman's voice disappeared, replaced by crackling static, and the Hero-Killer jumped backwards and away from the voice, eyes scanning the warehouse. It was large and open, only a few scattered crates and boxes providing cover.

"Come now, Stain, are we not friends?" the voice sounded faintly bemused, but it was concealed behind that dry facade. "If I had wanted to kill you, you would be dead. Isn't that right?"

"Akumono…" Stain's voice was a rasping growl, scratching at the air with claws and teeth. "Come out."

"You know I will not." the voice lost that sound of bemusement, switching now to something more weary. "No matter how much you wish I would. You can't find me, Stain. Nobody sees me, unless I want them to."

Stain licked his lips, sword hand tensing. He could almost _taste _Akumono's blood, the blood of the voice. Once he tasted it, the man would freeze. The man would be still. And the man would die.

Except that blood was not for him to taste. Akumono had spoken to him many times, but never once had Stain seen him. Stain could not be sure why, but whenever Akumono came to him, he seemed to… detach. Things would happen that he could not recall doing, effects with causes he could not remember. It was likely the nature of the man's Quirk; perhaps that was why he could not see him. Why he never had.

Perhaps he had, and he could not remember.

"What do you want?" It was barely a question, growled as it was, more of a demand spat from Stain's unwilling lips.

"I want a name, Stain, that is all." Akumono said. "One name. Then I will let you go on your way and continue on your futile crusade."

Stain bristled at those words, but he held his temper in check. One wrong move and Akumono could kill him where he stood. Of this he had little doubt; it was simply fact. Akumono was a monster, a ghost. Stain could not kill him. Not as he was now.

"And in return?" Stain asked.

"An address." Akumono replied. "There are men who are quite opposed to your ideals. It would serve you well if they were to die, as it would serve me well if they were too cease operation."

"What name?" Stain did not need to consider the offer; the last time Akumono had given him an address, he had killed two false heroes and three Yakuza bosses. It had been a good night, a night of hunting and of success. Akumono paid well.

"The name of one of your old Vigilante associates." Akumono said. "The Crawler."

Stain spat on the floor. It was a bold declaration that required no words; no. He would not give the boy's name to Akumono. He knew what this monster would want with The Crawler, and he would not give him so much as a single clue. He clutched his sword in both hands, raising it nearer to his head, blade pointing forward.

"I see." Akumono didn't sound the least bit disappointed. "You are strong, Stain. If I were to torture you it would give me nothing. However… the boy cannot know. So I suppose you must die."

Stain blinked, his body tensing, before he released the breath he was holding and relaxed. He needed a sign of presence. A way to know the man was near. Perhaps he had a gun, and would shoot, but why hadn't he done so already? No, Akumono would-

Stain gasped. He had turned a full one-hundred eighty degrees, and there was a searing pain on his back. He could hear chuckling, and turned his head to see something pink disappearing behind a crate. He lunged for it, jumping and swinging, ignoring what he knew to be a cut. Something blocked his sword, something equally strong, something made of steel. A blade. He saw pink again, hair, long for a man, and a dark glare.

"So fast…" Akumono said, standing. Stain slid to a stop, turning and lunging again with a savage strike. Akumono, revealed now to be a man in all black, deflected the blow with his weapon, a strange short spear that looked suspiciously like a cane.

"So very fast…" Stain blinked when he realized he had already cut, his sword concluding the arc as Akumono ducked his strike. Stain lashed out with a spiked boot, but Akumono was dodging backwards already, rolling. His hands came up, and grasped the edge of the barrel, throwing himself over it.

Stain took a long breath, the barrel between them giving both a moment to breathe. Akumono was tall and thin, wearing a suit in all black, from the shirt to the tie to the unbuttoned black jacket. He had long hair, a brilliant pink in colouration, and dark green eyes. It was a strange look, the black and pink clashing furiously, but the killer's aura surrounding Akumono made it hard to laugh.

"You cannot win this fight, Stain." Akumono declared. "I know all about you. I have watched you kill, but this is the first time you have done so much as see my face. You do not know my Quirk, you do not know my-"

"You erase memories." Stain interrupted, eyes narrowing. "That is why I seem to skip through attacks. You can prevent me from remembering my own attacks, and your counters."

Akumono scowled, and Stain nodded once in confirmation. He was right, at least in part. He took a deep breath, steadying his racing heart and breath. He knew the ways of Akumono's Quirk.

"Then you know you cannot-" Stain scoffed, interrupting his opponent mid-sentence.

"I know I cannot predict what you will do." Stain nodded. "I know I cannot hope to plan ahead, not truly. But I can trust in myself, in my skill, even if I cannot wholly know what will strike true. You are fast, Akumono, and strong. But I am faster and stronger still."

"Empty boasts." Akumono spat, glaring at Stain. Stain smiled, a savage animal grin.

"Then why is that fear in your eye?" he asked.

Stain struck first, jumping over the crate, sword singing in the air as it came down with murderous intent. Akumono reacted, raising his spear, trying to deflect the attack. He seemed confident in his skill, his own ability. Stain knew something Akumono did not, however..

He was not boasting before.

Stain blinked and found himself several feet away, a new cut on his shoulder. But he looked at his blade and thrilled for a moment; blood, hot and fresh. He leapt away from any potential counterattack, raising the sword to his face.

He was on the floor now, his leg burning with pain. His sword was gone from his hand, and he could not taste any blood on his tongue. Akumono was standing over, huffing and puffing, sweat running down his face in thick drops from his hairline. His spear was bloody, its tip pointed at Stain's throat. There was a gash in his suit, on his shoulder, where Stain's sword had struck true. Stain swallowed, twisting away, and went for one of the knives on his belt. He found one and threw up in the air, away from himself and Akumono both.

Akumono followed it with his eyes for just a moment, and Stain moved. He tackled the man to the floor, mouth wide open. He was ready to bite, to tear away a chunk of the man's flesh, all for the taste of his blood. He needed Akumono to be stilled. He saw Akumono's eyes flash a deeper green; a sign of Quirk activation?

Pain. Crippling pain, in his stomach and all through his torso. Stain cursed through a mouthful of blood, but realized in an instant that below him Akumono was not moving. He coughed and spat, spewing gore all over the man's face and chest. Akumono's gore. Akumono was frozen, and Stain had won. He reached for a knife, ignoring the spear stuck in his stomach. He would pull it out later. He needed to-

Stain saw black, and a sense of vertigo tore at his insides for a moment. He hit the ground, blood pouring from the wound in his gut. He looked around from where he lay, seeing cold grey walls. An alleyway, somewhere. He did not know for sure. Akumono was gone. His stomach hurt. He had no idea where he was, and he was drenched in blood.

Stain rose to his feet, one hand clamped across his stomach, and staggered into the shadows of the evening.

[X][X][X][X][X]

Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu was unimaginably tired. And lost.

It was a very simple ailment, and one he could explain with ease; he had overworked himself again. Not intentionally, of course; Tetsutetsu had learned long ago he rarely had the luxury of messing up on purpose. No, he made one of those classical Tetsutetsu screw-ups where he had decided to go for a jog only to forget his end-marker, meaning he had run halfway across the city before noticing that he didn't recognize any of the buildings around himself.

He had pondered how on earth he was meant to get home, especially with the sky slowly darkening and the locals choosing to mostly ignore his requests for directions. That it took him some fifteen minutes of wandering before he remembered he had a cell-phone likely spoke to his general skills in planning. Tetsutetsu was left with a dilemma, however; he had no idea who to call. His father was busy at work out of town for the weekend, his mother was watching his siblings…

He snapped his fingers. Midoriya. Izuku would definitely have a solution. Maybe his mom would pick Tetsutetsu up? That would be cool. Tetsutetsu texted the boy, before leaning against the wall and letting out a long sigh of relief. Izuku would have his back; Izuku always had his back. It was Izuku's specialty; that and making Natsuki turn really, really bright shades of red. He was pretty good at both.

Tetsutetsu was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn't even notice that somebody was emerging from the alleyway beside him until that person coughed, a loud and wet sound that made Tetsutetsu instinctively wince in sympathy. He turned, and saw a man with ragged black hair and entirely too many scars and spikes on his body bent over double, bleeding heavily from several open wounds.

Tetsutetsu was dumb. He would admit that himself if prodded; he knew for a fact he was a little less intelligent than just about everybody around him. But he wasn't an idiot; he knew a bad thing when he saw it. And as a wannabe hero, he reacted accordingly.

"You okay… sir?" he asked, crouching down beside the man. "What happened?"

The man spat up another thick wad of blood and saliva, and Tetsutetsu winced again before putting a gentle hand on the man's uninjured shoulder. He forced himself to remember all the 'rescue tricks' he'd picked up from various interviews with pro-heroes. Be gentle, kind, patient, and never touch them where they were hurt. Tetsutetsu felt the man start to crumble, and caught him in both arms, hefting him upright and tucking him closer to his chest.

"Don't worry, sir, I'll find help!" Tetsutetsu declared. This guy looked sort of like a villain, what with all the red and black and spikes, but Tetsutetsu couldn't just ignore a guy walking out of an alleyway looking like he'd gone nine-and-oh with a combine harvester.

The man made a burbling sound with his mouth, and Tetsutetsu winced as blood spilled all over his tank top, painting the grey material a deep red. But no hero could hesitate at the sight of a little blood (or a lot of blood, he supposed) and therefore he swung the man's limp form up and over his shoulders, grabbing him in a fireman's carry. The man coughed again, but his breathing had slowed slightly and become a little steadier.

"Alright, sir, I'm just gonna go find some help…" Tetsutetsu looked around the empty street, trying to think of somewhere to go. He began walking down the road, before freezing. His phone. An ambulance.

He could call an ambulance. He was an idiot after all, he decided, before reaching into his pocket with his free hand and dialing emergency services. At least, he tried to; he felt the man on top of him shift, and suddenly there was something sharp pressing against his throat.

"No…" the man rasped, coughing up another wad of blood. "Take me… two-four-three Isana… no hospital…"

Tetsutetsu hardened his skin immediately, turning to steel, and dropped the man on the ground. He turned as the man hit the pavement, another cough escaping his throat before he scrambled up to his feet. Tetsutetsu stared; this guy was torn to hell, and he still hefted a massive combat knife in one hand and pointed it at Tetsutetsu.

"You…" the man stared him down with red eyes, and Tetsutetsu froze, fear flooding his veins in spite of his usual bravado. "You are a good… good child…"

The man was still breathing heavily, rasping breaths drawing air in and out of his heaving chest. Tetsutetsu kept his steel up; he wasn't sure how fast this guy was, but no normal person should be able to stand like that, let alone prepare for a fight.

"Worthy… perhaps…" The man's face twisted into a smile, a hideous rictus-grin. "You will live… but… you will not take me…"

Tetsutetsu had heard enough. This guy was planning on killing him, apparently up to a few moments ago. That was bad news enough, let alone the fact that he couldn't bring himself to move. That glare, those crimson eyes… there was something in there, a harshness. It was like ice coating his muscles, freezing himself in place. Tetsutetsu wanted to charge, or run, or at least reply, but all he could do was stand. All he could do was shiver and quake.

The man turned to walk away, and Tetsutetsu collapsed. The sound of metal striking cement was loud in the quiet road, as his knees met the ground. His steel dropped and he was normal again, lungs heaving air into his lungs. He had broken into a cold sweat, and he dropped forward even more and barely caught himself with his hands. He stared at the cement, unable to so much as look up.

He didn't hear his phone go off the first time, nor the second, but on the third he managed to figure out what the curious buzzing sound was and bring the phone to his ear, answering it. Izuku's voice split the silence.

"Is Tetsu okay?" the boy asked, voice gentle. "Izuku and mama are coming now. Where is he exactly?"

Tetsutetsu clambered to his feet, leaning against the wall. The man was gone, the only clue to his passing the small spatterings of blood on the sidewalk. He looked around, trying to recall the street name. He looked at a sign, and blinked twice.

"O-Okina… Okina street…" he said. "I-I'm by… some apartments, I think?"

"Izuku and mama will be there soon." Izuku said, before hanging up.

Tetsutetsu fell to the ground, his legs giving out again, leaving him sitting with his back to the building. He put his phone on the pavement beside him, staring at the building opposite. He was alive. Somehow. He had met a villain, a real villain, a monstrous, terrifying villain… and he had survived. He hadn't even swung a fist. He hadn't fought at all. But he had survived.

Worthy. The man, the villain, he had said those words. The villain thought he was… worthy. What kind of endorsement was that? A pretty crappy one, all things considered. Tetsutetsu swallowed. He stared at the building opposite for a little longer. He didn't feel like moving.

He didn't know if he could.


End file.
